


A Secret at the Door

by TheLifeOfEmm



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Keeping One's True/Secret Identity from One's Spouse, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Marriage is a Requirement of Office, Marriage of Convenience, Marrying Someone to Investigate Their Past/Crimes, Montreuil-sur-Mer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 14:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeOfEmm/pseuds/TheLifeOfEmm
Summary: It was the expectation throughout the kingdom of France that public officials were to be wed. Monsieur Madeleine had no wife.





	A Secret at the Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akatonbo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akatonbo/gifts).



> Dearest recipient, my only note for the time being is that you can expect to see more in the same AU-verse after reveals. Like, potentially a lot more.

The summer of 1820 arrived in Montreuil-sur-Mer between a blaze of oppressive heat and a surplus of talk regarding a certain new political appointment in the provincial town. This appointment was to the office of Mayor, and the appointee was a man called Monsieur Madeleine. 

As it so happened, the mayorship was a position Madeleine had already refused once the year prior. And yet, the public outpouring of support for his nomination had left the gentleman with no choice but to reconsider, such that when the opportunity was offered to him a second time, he reluctantly accepted. This appeased the townspeople, but it left Madeleine with a particular problem. 

The nature of that problem was this: marriage. It was the expectation throughout the kingdom of France that public officials were to be wed. Monsieur Madeleine had no wife. 

This was not for any lack of appropriate suitors; as he was a pleasant man, one who was intelligent and widely respected, owner of a profitable business in the black goods industry, it was possible that Madeleine’s hand was one of the most widely sought-after in the province. Scarcely a day went by that he was not approached by every manner of highborn women—youthful, old, and in-between—who would impart him with their most charming smiles and offer invitations to private _salons_ and boutique drawing rooms. Always, Madeleine would politely decline.

It should not be presumed that all of Madeleine’s pursuers were of the fair sex; indeed, there were a number of men in the town who gazed upon his broad shoulders and kind, weathered features with interest. Had he expended any thought for the matter himself, Madeleine might have found that this way led the course of his most natural inclination, were he of the mind to accept the advances of another; however, Monsieur Madeleine also had no husband.

Less than one week after his installment, the Mairie began to draw crowds of hopeful candidates until it became quite a bother to enter or leave the premises. 

“Please, Monsieur le Maire,” the clerks and secretaries would implore, “if you could but select someone soon, it would be to the benefit of us all.” 

Madeleine had no desire to inconvenience his new subordinates, and he found the abundance of attention embarrassing. However, it was also true that he had no desire to marry, for reasons which were his own. It was a conundrum, made all the worse as others of greater authority began to echo his clerks’ demands. A man’s marital life was a reflection of his suitability to govern; thus, there was something irrevocably suspicious about a Mayor who did not possess a spouse. Madeleine had a vested interest in circumventing suspicion.

Midway through his second week, the Mayor was at his wit’s end. He stood behind his desk, arms planted upon the surface, head bowed. Beyond the walls, he could hear the faint chatter of the crowd, which he knew would swamp him the moment he stepped out for a breath of fresh air. Had he realized what trouble he was getting himself into, perhaps he would have foregone the appointment once again; as it was, Madeleine understood it would not be long until he possessed no choice in the matter. 

Perhaps, he thought, if there were someone as reserved as he, one whom was neither inclined to pry nor to press him for intimacies, such a thing might be negotiable. Still, he knew nothing of courting. The very notion was overwhelming in how foreign it was. 

Pondering this, the Mayor stood in solitude, his brow creased in a frown. It was unclear just how long he remained there motionless, lost in reverie, before there came a knock at the door. 

Madeleine started. He glanced at his calendar book, but it listed no appointments. 

Looking up, he called out, “Enter.”

The door opened, and a man stepped into the office. At the sight of him, Madeleine straightened. This man was Inspector Javert, and Madeleine had had occasion to meet with him but rarely. Now that he was Mayor, Madeleine supposed it would be the Inspector’s duty to report to him more often. He could not say he was exactly pleased with the idea.

“Monsieur le Maire.” Javert tipped his head in deferential acknowledgement, and Madeleine nodded back.

“Good day, Inspecteur,” he replied. “Forgive me, but if you sent any notice of your coming, it did not reach my office. I fear I am unprepared.”

Javert’s brow darkened at that. “Then the urchin failed to deliver it—I shall make it a point never to employ that page boy again.”

The Inspector was an unusual man, in a way which rendered him the very antithesis of Mayor Madeleine. He was tall and of narrow build, though the flare of his coat and the heaviness of his boots conspired to make him appear larger than life. He bore a heavy cane under his arm; in the Inspector’s hands, it was a fierce weapon, one which criminals soon learned to fear. He was cold and calculating, alert and watchful, and above all, he was unfalteringly loyal to the system he upheld. 

“I am certain he meant well,” Madeleine replied placidly. “Perhaps he was intimidated by the crowd—I know that I am.” His smile wavered. There was something about the Inspector which caused humor to fall entirely flat. “But I suppose you came here on business—Inspector, do not let an old man ramble on. How may I be of service?”

Madeleine was aware of Javert in the way that the shepherd is aware of the wolf but, knowing he carries a musket, is unconcerned with its presence. For Javert’s part, the Inspector arrived in Montreuil-sur-Mer as one of the rare few souls unaffected by Madeleine’s good deeds and generosity; he had treated Monsieur Madeleine with skepticism and disdain, and he treated Monsieur le Maire with little more than the impersonal courtesy due to any holder of public office. It was a curious relationship, oft remarked upon by the townsfolk. 

At the Mayor’s inquiry, Javert grinned in a way which showed too many teeth to be considered friendly. “It is actually in regard to the crowd outside that I wanted to speak with you, Monsieur.”

Though outwardly Madeleine kept his face impassive, his heart skipped a beat. He had not thought of his being unattached as a matter for police concern, merely a social aberration, but if he were in the wrong Javert would not hesitate to let him know it.

Then the Inspector elected to surprise him. Raising a hand to his head, Javert removed his top hat. Madeleine twitched—surely this brief meeting in his office was not intimate enough to warrant such behavior—when the Inspector surprised him again by abandoning the distance he had kept from the Mayor’s desk, instead approaching almost until he could have pounded his fist upon it. Madeleine swayed backward slightly, but his feet seemed nailed to the floor.

“Inspector?” he inquired, his voice coming out more strained than he intended.

Javert dipped his head politely, but while the toothy grin had disappeared, the bearing of a man on the hunt failed to leave his posture.

“I have a proposal to make,” said Javert, meeting the Mayor’s eye. “Yet I must provide you with some explanation, lest you mistake my reasoning.”

Madeleine blinked, wrong-footed by the turn the conversation was taking. “Very well,” he said after a long moment.

“It is like this,” Javert began. “Monsieur le Maire is perhaps aware of the recent string of incidents involving several land-owning citizens. The wealthier among them have been subject to various attempts of blackmail and extortion. Only a few have come forward to the police, but it is enough. The likelihood is that there have been far more incidents than what were officially reported. Such is the way of these things.”

Nodding uncertainly, Madeleine replied, “I have heard mention of this. It is a bad business.”

Javert hummed as he continued. “Most of the victims have had their personal lives—mistresses, illicit children, the like—used against them. In order to avoid humiliation, either in public or in the eyes of their spouse, they are asked to pay substantial sums of money or give up valuable shipments of goods. The extortionist knows his trade well.”

“And do we know the identity of this extortionist?” Madeleine inquired.

“No.” Javert grimaced. “We have been trying unsuccessfully to learn it for weeks. Which is why I require your assistance, if you are willing to give it.”

Feeling as though there was yet something he did not understand lurking in the undercurrent of Javert’s words, Madeleine nevertheless replied, “I will certainly do whatever I can.”

Slowly, Javert nodded. “Good,” he said. “What I ask is dangerous, but potentially solves a problem for us both. I am proposing,” he elucidated, “that you marry me.”

Madeleine was certain he must have heard wrong. His thunderstruck emotions could only have shown on his face, for Javert continued on.

“Monsieur is in need of a consort, both to keep face with your citizens and to dismiss the hordes outside.” He tipped his head knowingly toward the window, where even now the sounds of people clamoring for the Mayor’s favor were audible. “The Commissaire has indicated that I, too, must find a partner, as the extortionist will no doubt be tempted to target them in hopes of gaining leverage against an Inspector to the Police. Thus, a mutually beneficial arrangement, bachelor to bachelor—you will have a husband to satisfy appearances, and meanwhile the news of our marriage will draw my quarry from out of hiding.”

The Inspector looked at Madeleine evenly, which did nothing to dissuade the Mayor’s feeling he had just been outmaneuvered in a game of chess he was scarcely aware of playing. It was not the theoretical danger of blackmail which concerned him; it was, rather, the very real danger posed by the man standing before him. Javert would live in his household, share his routines, his meals—Madeleine could not pretend that there was no part of himself, deeply buried beneath venerability, that did not quake with subdued horror at the notion.

“You would want to do this now?” the Mayor asked hoarsely. 

“I can think of no reason to wait.” The Inspector’s eyes were dark, pulling Madeleine down to suffocate in their depths. “Unless Monsieur objects?”

In some ways, Javert was not the worst person he could choose. Madeleine could at least be certain that the rigid Inspector would not insist upon making small talk, and it seemed equally unlikely that he would expect them to sleep together in any but perhaps the literal sense. However, should Javert recognize his old self, dead yet impossible to eradicate from his past, from his skin, the consequences would be dire.

At long last, Madeleine nodded grudgingly. “So be it, then,” he said. “I will marry you.”

Javert did not smile, but there was a cold light in his eyes that chilled Madeleine to the bone.

“The Commissaire will be pleased.” Then Javert extended a hand, returning his hat to his head. “Come,” he said. “There must be a clerk here who can provide us the correct paperwork.”


End file.
